


Auld Lang Syne

by CapGirlCanuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Cute Kids, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Late 1950s, One Big Happy Family, Romance, Steve and Bucky name their kids after each other, The Lord of the Rings quotes, This made me happy and sad at the same time, What-If, dedicated to my sister, except that this never happened, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapGirlCanuck/pseuds/CapGirlCanuck
Summary: What if?What if… they both lived?What if no one got lost in the ice?What if the war had been over for a decade or more? What if both Bucky and Steve had been married for almost that long, and now were husbands, fathers, and not just war heroes?And what if… what if it was Christmas again?





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> So this one's for my sis Racheal. Here's to many more Christmases, wherever we are. 
> 
> I've also been listening to the song 'Blessed' by Tim & the Glory Boys non-stop, so that was a bit of inspiration. I've got love and I know it, and for really the first time, this Christmas it's enough.

“Bucky.”

A toe prods his thigh and he rouses himself from his doze. He yawns lazily and rolls onto his side propping himself up on one elbow. “Yes, darlin’?”

His wife, sitting up her pillows, with the lamp on and her journal open, wags her pencil at him. “You’re a real slug-a-bed this mornin’.”

“And you’re up early this mornin’,” Bucky replies, unconsciously copying her Irish brogue. He loves how she looks in that old nightgown, that he bought for her three days after they were married, at some out-of-the-way dress shop in London. So simple with just that bit of lace around the neckline, and the loose sleeves that fall around her elbows when she rests her chin in her hands. He loves the way her long red hair looks, all loose around her shoulders, the way she twirls a lock around her finger as she’s talking.

“–right, Bucky?” She is looking at him.

He sighs. “Sorry, dear. I missed that.”

She laughs, taps her pencil on his head. “I know. But back to my first question: how many are we expecting for supper tomorrow night? And are we having Steve and Peg’s brood tonight as well?”

“Yes to the second one.” Bucky stretches a bit, and pushes himself up to sit beside Brianna, sliding his good arm, his right arm, around her waist. She leans into him, then reaches up without looking to brush the hair off his forehead. He loves it when she does that: knows things without a word.

“We’ll have them to dinner, and then we’ll go to the church service,” he goes on. “I know Steve wishes they could have us over, but with Jamie having been sick lately, they’re all pretty ragged.”

“Sure, that little one’s having a hard time of it, isn’t he?” Brianna looks serious. “After Sarah and Maggie were so healthy, it’s a worry. I wonder if it wouldn’t be easier for them to just stay over tonight? Not let them worry about makin’ any meals or watching the girls.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully, liking the idea. “I’ll ring Steve after breakfast. I don’t think he’d say no.”

“Not if it’s you asking.” He can hear the smile in her voice. She makes a few notes. “So we’ll need to do a mite more shopping. And Christmas dinner?”

Bucky blows out his cheeks. “Mom and Dad. Aunt Margarita. Becca and Frank are with his family. Anna and Rob. Liz and Tom, they’ll bring Amanda and Benjie, but I’m not sure if Phil is still in Boston.”

“His train was supposed to come in at midnight. Liz called last night after supper.” Brianna scribbles quicker. “So that’s… ten, plus five Rogers and six of us. Twenty-one. A full house.” She gives a little sigh, a happy one; Bucky knows by the way she tilts her head and the little dimple in her left cheek. “I do love a full house.”

Bucky leans down to kiss her forehead. “And I love you,” he whispers, heart too full for any other words.

*****

Bucky knows better than to beat around the bush with Steve, so on the telephone after breakfast, he asks simply if he and Peggy would spend a couple days at the Barnes’ house.

Steve listens, is quiet for a moment, then says simply, “Yes.”

Bucky can hear the relief in his friend’s voice and smiles. “Make your way over any time this afternoon. If you need anything, just give a shout and I’ll send Steven over.”

“Send me over? I’m already here.”

They both chuckle at the joke, old and comfortable as the slippers Brianna made for Bucky as her first gift before they were engaged.

They’d agreed on that, standing in the choir room, nervously adjusting their ties in front of the mirror. Bucky had looked at his best man, really the best man he knew, his best _friend_ , and smiled. “Our first boy will be Steven, of course.”

Steve had paused, turned to smirk at him. “Can’t exactly just name a kid ‘Bucky’, you know. It’ll have to be James.”

“How’s Jamie?” Bucky asks now.

“Better. A lot better, actually. The new medications are working really well.” He can hear Steve’s wry smile. “You don’t figure an enhanced metabolism could be a drawback. Seems the other stuff wasn’t strong enough.”

Bucky chuckles. “Well, painkillers never work on you.”

“True.”

There is a silence, but even silences are comfortable with Steve.

“Oh, Maggie. Sorry,” Steve says into the phone. “I’d better go. Maggie keeps trying to sneak presents out from under the tree.”

Bucky laughs. “Tell her Uncle Bucky is waiting for her.”

“I will. See you after lunch.”

Bucky puts down the receiver, smiling. His eyes drift to the cabinet on the other side of the hall, the American flag, the photographs, the medals. He steps closer, eyes one picture in particular: he and Steve in uniform, shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling for the camera, but Bucky can see Steve’s elbow angled to jab him if he starts cracking dirty jokes.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” Bucky reaches without looking, rests his left arm—the one he wasn’t born with—across Steven Jr.’s shoulders.

“Can I be a hero like you, Dad?”

Bucky turns his head, startled by the question, but pauses before answering.

“I’m not really a hero, you know. I just did what needed to be done. I just did what Steve needed me…” He stops with a little laugh. “I just did my best to be there when my friends needed me. If you do that,” Bucky reaches across to tap the boy’s nose, “you’ll always be someone’s hero.”

Young Steven nods slowly. He is ten now, old enough to understand. “Who’s your hero?”

Oh, that is an easy question to answer. “A little guy who fought bullies twice his size, no matter how much it hurt. He saved my life too.”

Steven grins. “After you, he’s my hero too.”

*****

It’s the eyes that get Bucky every time. They are so blue, as blue as Steve’s, but paired with hair as brown as Peggy’s they are startling.

“Buckah.” The word is soft and sleepy and Jamie’s eyes immediately flutter shut again. But Bucky has to swallow hard, and turns his head to kiss the little one’s forehead.

“Yep. Uncle Bucky’s watching,” he whispers. He is pleased to find that the child is only a little warmer than he should be, which is actually not strange for Steve’s kids.

A chubby hand rests on his collar bone and Bucky lets himself slump a little lower in the easy chair. He hears a deeper snore, and looks across the living room to where Steve is passed out on the couch.

Sarah and Maggie had come in like two tornadoes, followed by their worn out parents, Peggy carrying a crying baby Jamie. Bucky had grabbed Jamie, Brianna had taken charge of Peggy, and Steven had immediately volunteered to take the girls sledding.

In five minutes Steve and Bucky had been standing in an empty, quiet living room, with Jamie now making sad, snuffly noises.

“Magic,” Steve said, and Bucky had grinned. His friend looked like he’d just gotten back from a hard mission fighting HYDRA agents.

“It’s harder than commanding in the army, isn’t it?”

Steve had smiled wryly. “Never thought I’d agree with that.”

Bucky watches his best friend sleep, like he has so many times over their lives. He remembers pressing against Steve, trying to share some warmth, as they slept on the Rogers’ couch cushions. He remembers hovering over Steve, through long, fearful nights of raging fevers and gasping breaths. He remembers pausing on his way out to work at the docks, looking over to see Steve curled against the back of their old couch, the blankets that covered his small frame, rising and falling steadily.

Bucky smirks to himself. “You’re dad ain’t so small now,” he mutters to the child, still sleeping on his own chest.

He also remembers Steve’s warmth at his back as they slept on cold, enemy soil. He remembers waking up in a cold, black haze of pain, and clinging to Steve’s voice: “It’s okay, pal. You’ll be okay.” He remembers the comforting bulk of Steve next to his hospital bed, when the nights were long and his heart was dark.

Steve stirs, opens his eyes, rubs a hand over his face. His gaze wanders around the room, before finding Bucky’s. “Hey,” he mutters, still groggy.

“Hey, pal.”

Bucky’s captain—he will always be Buck’s captain—sits up slowly, eyes the little one in Bucky’s arms. “He still asleep?”

“Yep. He’s–”

A whiny mumble interrupts him, and Steve begins to smile. “Or he’s not.”

Hearing his father’s voice, Jamie pushes himself up on Bucky’s chest, and rolls over, trying to find Steve. “Dada.”

“Okay, little fella.” Bucky grabs him, sits up, and leans forward to set the child on his feet.

“Dada!” Without a single misstep, he runs across the floor into Steve’s waiting arms, which swoop him up, then toss him (gently!) heavenward, and he is giggling and crowing.

Bucky smiles and sighs at the same time. Hannah is four now and highly independent like her mother; he misses having a wee one of his own to hold. He has been thinking of asking Bri what she’d think of making it five little Barneses, not counting the two babies they lost before Hannah.

A pair of slim arms drape across Bucky’s chest from behind, and he tilts his head back for a quick kiss. “I need to do the last shopping before the stores close. Peggy said she and Steve can watch the kids. Run with me?”

“For a million miles,” he whispers, and she giggles like a schoolgirl, before resting her chin on top of his head.

Bucky glances across at Steve and discovers Peggy now sitting beside him. She has always been a beautiful woman, but motherhood has leant a certain softness to her determined, capable air. She leans on Steve’s shoulder, and Jamie scrambles into her lap. “Hallo, baby. Did you get a good sleep?” She glances across at Bucky, smiling. “You all look better rested.”

From down the hall, in the direction of the back door come loud thumps and indistinct yelling. “Speak of the devil,” Steve grins. He waves his hand. “Go. Get outta here while you can.”

Brianna laughs. “Let me get my purse from upstairs. Get your coat on, Buck.”

Bucky gets up, turns toward the doorway where his wife has gone, but glances back at Steve. His friend lifts one eyebrow in a question, and Bucky nods. Of course he is fine.

“Thanks,” he says, and Peggy replies, “It’s our pleasure.” But that isn’t really what he meant, so he just gives them both another smile, which Steve returns over his son’s head, and hurries from the room.

*****

It is Christmas Eve.

Bucky remembers when his sister Elizabeth would say on the morning of December 24th, “It’s Christmas Eve,”, and he would yell back, “No! It ain’t Christmas _Eve_ until evening!” He still believes that.

Dusk has just fallen, the storefronts glow with lights and Christmas displays; a ragged, dirty Santa Claus on a corner plays ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’ on a violin; a gang of boys pelt each other with snowballs, until a cop breaks up the battle.

Bucky shuffles all his bags to his left hand, so he can wrap an arm around Brianna’s waist and pull her into his side.

She tilts her head, and he sees the years in her eyes, the good and the bad, the sorrows and joys of their life together. From the moment that fiery-headed little Irish lass walked into his hospital room in London, and dropped his supper tray on the floor, he’d known something big had just happened.

She’d flushed scarlet, before jerking her chin up, to meet his gaze. “Sure, and my brothers would be down there with the dog eating away, the little scamps,” she blurted, and Bucky had not stopped laughing for a few minutes. He’d helped her mop up, clumsy with only one good arm, but she hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Remember the dinner tray?” he says, and then stoops and kisses her before she can answer.

They drive home in a fairy tale snowfall, big fat white flakes, and when they park in front of the house, Brianna leaps out, and spins in a circle, arms outstretched.

“Bri!” Peggy is standing in the front doorway, and Bucky’s wife runs to grab her hand.

“Come on, Peg!” she sings out. “Sure, it’s Christmas!”

Peggy manages to grab Steve behind her, and he too gets towed out into the cold and the swirling flakes. Bucky watches him stop and tip his head back, trying to catch a couple snowflakes on his tongue, before he is laughing, grabbing Peggy around the waist and swinging her off her feet.

Bucky climbs out of the car, and Brianna pauses, staring at him, eyes shining, snow in her hair. “Sure, and I can’t resist that look,” he says, and they are waltzing in the snow. Steve and Peggy, no coats and wearing their slippers, do the same. The children giggle and shriek from where they are crowded in the doorway, and the glow spilling out seems big enough to light the world.

It is Christmas Eve.

Bucky sits in the candlelit church, an arm around his wife, the other holding Hannah in his lap. Timmy is snuggled up against Brianna’s other side, Freddie against his father’s, and Steven sits next to the aisle, proud he is old enough to hold his own candle.

_Silent night, holy night_

_Son of God, love’s pure light…_

Jamie fusses in the pew in front of them, and Peggy shushes him. Steve has always been a better singer, and Bucky finds his rich baritone and Brianna’s sweet alto, and mumbles along.

_Radiant beams from Thy holy face_

_With the dawn of redeeming grace_

_Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth_

_Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth_

The smell of evergreens is clean and sharp, and Bucky takes a slow breath as the choir sits down.

There is a movement in the pew beside Steve, and then little Sarah is walking up the aisle; the candle flames she passes catch the red of her dress. Reverend McMillan takes her hand and she stands beside him, chin up, but Bucky can see the anxiety in his niece’s eyes. He senses Steven Jr. straighten, lifting his candle a little higher, and it is not his imagination that Sarah is looking at her honorary cousin, not her parents, when she smiles.

Sarah gives her recitation of ‘Love Came Down at Christmas’, her voice sweet and steady, in the way Bucky remembers Aunt Sarah’s being, and then the choir leads into the next carol ‘Hark the Harald Angels Sing’. The girl comes hurrying back to her family, to accept their hugs and whispered praise.

Bucky knows that Steve is fighting back tears, so he stretches his legs under the pew to give Steve a gentle kick. Sarah twists to look back at the Barneses; Bucky gives her a wink, then follows her gaze to Steven Jr. They swap grins in the glow of a candle, and Bucky has a thought, one he quickly tucks back into his heart.

It’s Christmas Eve, after all.

*****

Bucky and Steve move through the living room like ghosts.

Steve catches his foot on the edge of the carpet, stumbles, but catches himself. He meets Bucky’s gaze, and glares, before he cracks a smile. Both of them are now fighting laughter.

They pause and stare down at the sleeping lumps scattered across the carpet, on their nests of couch cushions: the three girls, with Hannah sandwiched between Sarah and Maggie; Freddie and Timmy curled up like two puppies so you couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began; Steven Jr. over by the Christmas tree.

Bucky watches him, suddenly thinking he looks lonely. _He’s really hoping for a dog,_ Bucky thinks. He and Brianna had been on the fence for several months, trying to decide if a puppy could fit into their family. They had finally decided that it couldn’t.

Bucky smiles, remembering how he’d begged and pleaded for months for a dog. He moves to join Steve at the fireplace, where they hang the fat little stockings, all filled in the seclusion of Bucky and Brianna’s room, with the four grownups giggling and chuckling and getting sentimental.

There are seven this year, Jamie’s first. As they finish he and Steve straighten, and lean on the mantelpiece. The Christmas tree, covered in colored lights and topped with a star, glows with a warmth that reaches Bucky’s heart.

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, then steps closer to slide his arm around his friend’s neck. Bucky reaches up behind Steve to grip his other shoulder.

“Thanks,” Steve whispers. “For everything.”

“You picked me offa the side of a mountain when anyone else would have given me up for dead. I think we’re even.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just turns to pull him into a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, pal,” Bucky whispers in his ear.

“Merry Christmas, Buck.”

*****

Christmas morning is a riot of sound and color and happiness. There is wrapping paper thrown hither and thither and yon, and Jamie doesn’t stop squealing.

Peggy gets stars in her eyes when she finds a stunning red dress from Steve, and there is a general laugh when Brianna finds a similar green one—except in doll size. Bucky endures her Look for only so long before he hands over the package with the real one in it. Hannah gets the little dress for her Miss Molly.

Steven Jr. cradles his BB gun like a baby, and comes to lean against his father’s chair, so they can discuss sharpshooting and the quality of different ammunition.

Someone calls, “Last one!” and Steven’s head jerks up. “It’s for Buck,” Steve says, tossing the small package his way. Bucky does not miss how Steven’s shoulders slump, and he glances at the clock. Just 10; they should be here any minute. He rests his metal hand on his son’s shoulder, and gives a gentle squeeze.

The doorbell chimes loudly, and Bucky almost gives the game away by laughing. “Go get that please, Steven?”

He waits until the boy is out in the hall, before he gets to his feet, and Brianna comes to his side, her whole face glowing with suppressed merriment. Together they follow their son to the front door.

He opens it to a cloud of cold air, an excited boy, and a jumping dog.

The whole scene is a blur of noise: the red-brown spaniel circling Steven’s feet, before the boy crouches down to greet him; and Max Kelter’s breathless words: “He’s ours, Steve. Both of us!”

Steven’s head jerks up, hands freezing on the dog’s neck. He does not speak, but Bucky can make out the astonished hope on his face. “He’ll stay with you sometimes and with me sometimes and we can do everything together!” Max’s dark eyes shine, his breath forming a cloud over his head, and Bucky is pretty sure he is the closest thing to an angel his son has ever seen.

Steven makes a gasping sort of laugh, before he launches himself at his best friend, and the two boys tumble off the front step in a flurry of snow. With a happy bark, the dog jumps to join them, and Bucky quietly reaches to close the door behind the mob.

He spins to face Brianna, and, by way of expressing his feelings, kisses her long and hard, so that the other kids groan and someone laughs (he recognizes Steve’s).

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he says.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” she giggles.

Eventually two cold, wet boys and one very happy dog pile in the front door and Sarah is there to give Steven a hug, not caring about the snow, and Steve comes into the hall waving a camera and calling for a picture.

Max and Steven link arms, the spaniel at their feet, and Bucky, standing next to Steve, finds himself blinking back memories. Steve glances over at him as he pushes the button and they share a smile, two hearts full.

*****

There are simple, unhurried moments too, amid the bustle of visitors, like the Starks and Dugans, phone calls from Becca and Peggy’s family, and preparations for the big dinner that night.

Steve and Bucky go for a walk with the boys: Freddie, Timmy, Max, Steven Jr. and the dog, whose name is simply Sniffer. At the park they run around the ball diamond and throw snowballs. They flop down on a smooth place and make snow angels, two giant ones and four smaller ones.

Max laughs. “Hey. That’s us and our guardian angels.”

Steven comes at him with a handful of snow. “Some angel you make!”

The boys tumble over each other laughing, but Bucky glances at Steve. He is not wearing a hat and his hair looks particularly gold in the sun that has broken through the clouds. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and snow is dusted across his coat and mitts.

Snow will always remind Bucky of blood and pain, but he can put that aside when he remembers the warmth of Steve’s hand, his voice, his stubborn optimism. And then Brianna holding him tight as they danced in the snow on their first Christmas, so strong even while Bucky’s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.

“Buck?” He feels a light touch on his arm, and comes back to the present. Steve is looking at him with a question, though not worried. Yet.

Two. Bucky has two angels: Steve, his guardian; Brianna, his love.

Bucky swallows and takes a deep breath. “How’d we ever get so lucky, Stevie?” It comes out soft and kinda choky, and Steve blinks.

He stares at Bucky for a long moment, before turning to take in the snow and the bare trees and the cars passing on the road and the Christmas decorations on the houses across the street. His gaze falls on the boys chasing each other, Sniffer leaping along with them and now tripping Steven. Max falls on him with a shout, Tim and Freddie pile on, and Steve slowly turns to look back at his best friend.

“I don’t know, Buck. I really don’t know.”

Bucky gives a breathless laugh, and tackles Steve into the snow.

He carries some of that overwhelmed feeling for the rest of the day, like he is a kid again.

In the kitchen he sneaks up behind his wife, checks to make sure she’s not holding a knife, and wraps his arms around her waist. He feels her jerk, before relaxing again.

“Knew you were there.”

Bucky chuckles and rests his cheek against her hair, breathes in the smell of her. “D’you ever feel so happy you could just… live forever?”

She pauses in her stirring, and tilts her head to look at him. “It’s Christmas,” she says.

Bucky grins sheepishly. “But I think it’s the best.”

Now she smiles. “Ye might be right about that, lad.”

While she is smiling at him, Bucky sneaks a finger full of cookie dough from the bowl. Somehow, in that mysterious way of women, she knows and his hand is smacked against the countertop without her looking away from his face.

“Bri, is this man disturbing you?” Peggy asks, coming in behind them. “Because I _can_ remove him.”

They are laughing too hard to answer.

*****

Somehow, between twenty-one mouths and a lot of merry conversation, both turkeys vanish from the table, along with everything else. Anna teases Steve for the stuffing recipe, and Phil eats like the starving college student he is.

Bucky silently counts the faces, storing each in his memory: Tim and Freddie trying to tell their grandmother about their day; Mom sharing a smile with Liza (Bucky will never call her Liz); her man Tom entertaining his youngest son Benjie, Steven Jr., and Sarah; Amanda, so tall now, helping Maggie with her food. Steve and Peggy, laughing over something baby Jamie has done; Dad teasing Aunt Margarita, and asking Phil about his studies; Rob and Anna, the wanderers thanks to his job as a magazine photographer, finally home again; Hannah and Brianna.

Timmy pokes him in the arm. “Daddy, why do knives at the table not bend like pocket knives?”

Freddie chimes in. “Can I use mine on my turkey? This one,” he waves his silverware, “isn’t worth spit. It’d be useless against a bear.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “If you met a bear with one of those _you’d_ be cold turkey.”

They both stare at him for a moment, before they groan in unison, and then laugh at themselves.

“But can I use my pocket knife?” Freddie asks again, and he shifts in his chair to put his hand in his pocket.

“No.” Bucky softens the word with a smile. “When we go camping in the summer, definitely.”

 _Oops._ Their faces light up, and they are both talking at once.

“Camping?”

“Where?”

“Will we eat trout?”

“Will we take guns?”

“Can we get a bear?”

“How about a mountain lion?”

“Can we climb a mountain?”

“Mountain lions don’t just live in the mountains.”

“Well then, why are they called mountain lions?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daddy?”

They both turn back to him expectantly, and he stares at them, mouth slightly open. How did they _do_ that? He cannot remember doing that when he was that age, he doesn’t really remember _what_ he did when he was seven or eight. Before he met Steve he hadn’t really had any close friends.

But the boys are waiting.

“Well… When people saw a big cat in the mountains, they called it a mountain lion. When they saw a big cat in the woods they called it a puma. But it is really all the same thing: a wildcat. And they scream like this.”

Bucky gives his best, most hair-raising screech, and it is so unexpected both boys almost fall over. The rest of the people around the table do the same, but Bucky just grins at his sons. “Yeah, we can probably find one for you. If you’re sure you want to meet one.”

Then the boys are laughing, and Bucky is tickling them, making growly noises, and Brianna is saying, “Are you _trying_ to scare us all to death?!”

*****

After dinner there is more exchanging of presents with all the visitors, and, after the food has settled, dancing. They roll up the living room carpet, and Brianna and Peggy run upstairs to don their Christmas dresses, and Phil pulls out his fiddle.

The room is full of light and laughter and love and Brianna is wearing her hair like a girl: loose and just pulled back at the sides, so the red waterfall contrasts with the green of her dress. She twirls in his arms, laughing at the fast songs, and in the slow ones the rest of the room seems to disappear.

They sit out the ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ to catch their breath and get a drink, and Bucky sees Steve swing Peggy off her feet, lifting her up so she bends down to kiss him, and then they are laughing so hard they have to stop dancing for a minute and hang on to each other.

“What are you smiling like that for?” Brianna asks.

“He found the perfect partner after all,” Bucky says. “Without any help from me. He always had to go his own way.” Then he leans over to kiss his wife’s cheek. “And I found a partner so perfect,” he whispers in her ear, “it must have been a miracle from Heaven.”

Then it is Brianna’s turn to smile, and he follows her gaze to see Steven Jr. and Sarah dancing like pros: twisting and turning, clapping and stomping. Then as the song winds up, Steven pulls the girl close, spins and dips her, finishing with a dramatic pose. He sets Sarah gently back on her feet and they are laughing and hugging and congratulating each other.

Bucky and Brianna turn to smile at each other, but they say nothing, leaving the hopes and dreams of all parents in their eyes.

Gradually the smaller children fall asleep and are carted off upstairs to bed. The other families take their leave, with many hugs and kisses, and cries of ‘Merry Christmas’ echoing in the night air.

Bucky is startled to find that it is after 10 o’clock, when the last guest has left. He is not tired and heads into the now quiet kitchen, everything shipshape again, thanks to the amazing ladies. Steve is already there, fetching a bottle from the upper cupboard.

With the children all abed, their wives join them and the four take seats around the fire, in a now quiet house.

Peggy sits sideways in Steve’s lap, her legs over the arm of the chair. Bucky and Brianna take the love seat and Bri curls against his side. She is still wearing her new dress and he takes a sip from his glass, looks down at her. “Have I told you your beautiful?”

She giggles. “Yes, about a hundred times.”

Bucky glances up to see Steve stroking Peggy’s hair, her head resting on his shoulder, and staring into the flames.

“I still miss her,” he says suddenly. “She would love all this. The grandkids.” He stops, presses his lips together. Peggy’s hand comes up to brush his cheek.

“Remember the Christmas when the boiler blew?” Bucky asks. “We would never have made it through that without your mom and you.”

Steve chuckles, weakly, but he is smiling again. Mission accomplished. “Yeah. Remember how we acted out the Christmas story? With hoboes and… what was it? An old tin washtub in an alley?” Both men are laughing.

Brianna butts her head against her husband. “I’ve heard that story so many times I could tell it myself.”

“Well, how about our first time celebrating Christmas in a war?”

She cocks her head. “And how about the time my sister invited a witch over on New Year’s eve?”

“Oh, that I’ve got to hear,” Peggy says at once. “Shut up for a few minutes, gentlemen?”

Steve chuckles. “And that’s an order.” He kisses her forehead, and she swats his chest.

“Don’t distract me.”

He kisses her cheek this time. “Oh, I’m distracting now?”

She swats him again, but there is affection in the gesture. “Yes. Now do stop it.”

“Actually, I’d like to hear this one too,” Bucky says. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” as the other two settle back down.

“Sure, it was a beautiful evening, and I was standing at the door waving to my friend Bridget, when my little sister comes up behind me and tugs on my skirt.”

Bucky closes his eyes, lets her voice carry him away.

*****

Not until Brianna has switched out the light, and they lie back in the dark, both of them exhausted in the best possible way, does Bucky mention it.

“You know,” he starts slowly, and then she tells him, “Spit it out, I got no time to listen to your blarney,” but he can hear her smiling, and she rolls over to face him.

Her hand on his face is soft and warm, and he melts inside. “What about having another? Make it five? Another little girl? Call her Ava after your mother?”

She gives the softest of giggles. “I was going to ask what you thought.”

There is a moment of silence.

“Is that a yes?” Bucky finally asks.

“Sure, and it’s a yes.” She snuggles up against him, kisses his cheek, and then, quite suddenly, she is asleep, her breathing soft in his ear.

He smiles in the dark and holds her close.

*****

Despite the late night, Bucky is up early the next morning. He kisses Brianna as he leaves the room and she pulls the covers over her head. But he can see her lips curve into a smile.

He hears the jingle of the milkman’s truck as he walks down the hall to the stairs; life is returning to its usual pace.

He is just letting the coffee cool, when Steve startles him, appearing in the kitchen doorway with a whimpering Jamie. Steve yawns and shuffles to take a seat at the table, sets the baby in his lap.

“He decided to wake up and bother us, so I’m letting Peggy get a little more shuteye. Mug?”

Bucky smirks, and instead of handing over the one he’s just filled for himself, he takes his time pouring another mug for Steve. Steve glares at him, then takes the mug and knocks it back in one breath.

Jamie gabbles and reaches for the now empty mug. Steve pushes it out of his reach. “Sorry, son. You’re a little young. Another?” glancing at Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but gets him a refill. Steve takes his time over this one. He is halfway through when Jamie starts making more complaining noises.

“Oh-ohs. Oh-ohs.”

“Cheerios,” Steve translates, hauling himself to his feet. He goes to set the baby in the highchair and move it to the table, while Bucky grabs the box from the cupboard and an unbreakable bowl.

“Alright, son, eat up.” Steve sets the full bowl in front of his boy, and collapses into his own chair again. Jamie digs a little hand into the Cheerios, and tries to shove as many as he can hold into his mouth at once. A few bounce onto the floor and Steve groans.

Bucky, leaning against the counter, laughs. “This is the life, ain’t it, pal?”

“Jerk,” Steve throws back, getting up again to clean the floor. He stops to tweak Jamie’s nose and the child swats at his hand. “You’re as messy as your uncle,” Steve says. “Hope you turn out better looking than him.”

“Hope you turn out less of a punk than your dad,” Bucky says, rinsing out his mug. “Although I wouldn’t have him any other way,” he adds.

Steve laughs now, and it must be the Christmas spirit still hanging in the air that makes him walk across the room to give Bucky a hug. “I don’t plan on changing more than I have to,” he says.

“Like getting wrinkled and grey,” Bucky teases, ruffling his friend’s hair as they pull apart.

“Dada,” Jamie says, and Steve turns.

“Wait, are you both saying I’ve already got some grey in there?”

Bucky laughs. “What? Scared of getting old?”

Steve huffs and looks at him, annoyed and happy at the same time. “Not as long as I’ve got my family and friends to do it with me.”

“Sure, sure.” But Bucky softens his smile, lets Steve know he means it. “You can count on me, pal.”

 

∞ ∞ ∞

 

_Wakanda, Christmas Day 2017_

Bucky stirred, blinked, then sat up with a start.

“You fell asleep,” Steve said, rather unnecessarily.

“Uh huh.” Bucky stretched, and picked up his new journal, Nat’s gift this year. Good grief, he’d filled over a dozen pages!

“You were writing for a long time.”

He glanced up at Steve, sitting back against the mud wall, a book open on his knees, the glow of the lamp on the wall behind him.

“Yeah.” Bucky closed the book and tapped his fingers against it. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

Bucky got up to put his book and pen away in the desk, and get a drink from the front room. He still felt a bit dreamy, but oddly refreshed. “What are you reading?” he asked, wandering back to sit beside Steve.

“The Lord of the Rings.” Steve grinned. “Every time I start getting into it again, I have to go on another mission.”

“So that’s the reason you keep coming back.” Bucky bumped his left shoulder against Steve’s.

“Not the only one,” Steve said smiling, shoving him back.

“Here.” Bucky reached over to pull the book away. “Let me read. You get some rest.”

“Read out loud?”

“Course.” Bucky leaned back, while Steve lay down, putting one hand behind his head. It reminded Bucky of when they shared an apartment and Steve was sick and Bucky would read to him at night, helping take both of their minds off how miserable Steve could feel, even if he didn’t say so.

“Top of the page,” Steve said.

_‘I am an Elf and a kinsman here,’ said Legolas, becoming angry in his turn._

_‘Now let us cry: “a plague on the stiff necks of Elves!”’ said Aragorn. ‘But the Company shall all fare alike. Come, bind our eyes, Haldir!’_

Steve must have been tired, because he closed his eyes, and listened without comment. Bucky hadn’t even reached the end of the page before he heard his friend’s breathing slow and deepen.

_‘I cannot,’ said Merry. ‘I have never seen them. I have never been out of my own land before. And if I had known what the world outside was like, I don’t think I should have had the heart to leave it.’_

_‘Not even to see fair Lothlórien?’ said Haldir. ‘The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.’_

Bucky glanced up before he turned the page, and saw that Steve was asleep. He smiled, folded the corner of the page for a marker, and got up to put the book back on the shelves.

He switched the light off and padded back to his own sleeping mat. It had been a good day. The words he had just read seemed to echo in his mind. _…but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.’_

He pulled the light blanket up to his chin, glanced over at Steve’s shadowy bulk, which stirred.

“Umph. Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas,” Steve murmured.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, pal.”

**Author's Note:**

> 'Jingle Bell Rock' was written in 1957.  
> Had to throw in the LotR quote. That one from Haldir is the best.
> 
> I do want to do a New Year's Eve get-together with the Howlies, but I'll see how time goes.  
> Have a merry Christmas everyone!
> 
> Kudos + comments are always appreciated.


End file.
